


distractions of debatable value

by amorremanet



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Past Relationship(s), Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 20:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13038642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: Keith works at the Blooms of Marmora flower shop and pines over Shiro, his best friend and roommate. Shiro is perfectly convinced that Keith made a mistake in breaking up with his last ex, and he really wants to help.Taking several deep, slow breaths, Keith tries to remind himself that he loves Shiro. Ghosting his fingertips up one of the lilies’ petals, he tells himself that Shiro means well, and Shiro deserves for his alleged best friend to listen to him when he’s trying to help out. Never mind that there’s nothing to help with, because despite the ostensible focal point of the conversation, this is more for Shiro than it is for Keith.





	distractions of debatable value

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoirSongbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoirSongbird/gifts).



> So, this was written for that, “pairing + AU setting = 3-sentence fic” meme on tumblr. Clearly, it failed at being three sentences…… whoops? I would like to formally apologize to poor Regris, but not for my deliberate failure to understand the word, “three.”
> 
> Anyway, here are some dumb AU boys being ridiculous, as they are wont to do.
> 
>  **eta, 12th January 2018:** There is now some absolutely gorgeous art for this fic, by Opaldelight on tumblr! **[Go check it out and give her some love!](https://opaldelight.tumblr.com/post/169273795041/a-little-something-for-amorremanet-s-fic)** :D

“Here’s what I don’t get about your situation with Regris,” Shiro announces, pushing up his black-framed glasses with a sigh that wishes it were pensive.

Mostly, he sounds like someone’s trying to drag him out of bed against his will. On the plus, he _doesn’t_ sound like he’s been moping in his room all day, while blasting his favorite angsty girl singer-songwriters, sad acoustic songs by artists Keith has never heard of outside of Shiro, and the occasional hour-long loop of “Careless Whisper.” He also doesn’t sound like it’s noon-thirty on a Saturday, he’s only gotten up to take his meds, and he doesn’t want to admit to or deal with any problems that might have a hand in why he’s napping all day.

But on the downside, his, _“I know I have to go to campus today, but God, five more minutes? Stop expecting me to wake up, eat breakfast, and put on pants like an adult”_ whine isn’t much better. It only has a slight edge because he’s being difficult, but at least he isn’t actively disregarding himself again.

For his part, Keith shrugs without looking up from the arrangement he’s working on. It’s a special order, made up of red roses, yellow lilies, pink orchids from the Blooms of Marmora’s private hothouses out back, and pink juniberry flowers. Keith took this exercise in sculptural horticulture as a commission from Lance, something suitably unique for his, Hunk’s, and Allura’s upcoming “triad-versary.”

This project being a commission for a kinda-sorta friend is irrelevant. Keith owes it to himself and to his work to focus. Besides, Lance’s rich-ass parents don’t mind letting their youngest drop over a grand on something that’s going to wither, wilt, and die within three weeks. He promised Keith an extra tip to go with his commission fee, if Keith, _“can really, truly capture the no sé qué of True Love? Like, dazzle me. Find a way to embody how Shiro looked like someone drop-kicked Red into rush-hour traffic when you used to make out with Regris, but do it with flowers. Okay, Mullet? Can you make that magic happen for me?”_

Which doesn’t help, as a direction, because the fluffy, black cat-shaped diva who Keith and Shiro belong to would never allow someone to do that to her. Also, Shiro never once looked like that when Keith was still with Regris. But hey, whatever. The money’s good, and Keith knows way more than he likes about how Lance looks at his significant others. He’ll portray _that_ in this arrangement, and everything will be copacetic.

Except for the part where Shiro apparently _needs_ to ignore Keith’s silence, swish out his ponytail, and pipe up with: “Granted, there’s a lot about the situation with Regris that doesn’t make sense to me? You _like_ him, he likes you—”

”And we like each other _better_ when we _aren’t_ dating. When we aren’t screwing around either, for that matter.”

“ _Keith_.” Folding his arms over his chest, idly drumming his left hand’s organic fingers against the high-tech prosthetic on his right-hand side, Shiro digs the small of his back at the counter. “Come on, I’m serious.”

Taking several deep, slow breaths, Keith tries to remind himself that he loves Shiro. Ghosting his fingertips up one of the lilies’ petals, he tells himself that Shiro means well, and Shiro _deserves_ for his alleged best friend to listen to him when he’s trying to help out. Never mind that there’s nothing to help with, because despite the ostensible focal point of the conversation, this is more for Shiro than it is for Keith.

This works great until Keith’s mouth takes over: “I’m _being_ serious,” he blurts out. “Just because Regris and I like each other doesn’t mean that we should be together. We weren’t working out, so we’re over like that. It’s not a big deal.”

“Six months together isn’t anything to sneeze at—”

“What, it’s not _that_ long.” Keith huffs. “Or are the standards _different_ because I’m a hot mess with Mommy issues, Daddy issues, abandonment issues, and whatever other shit our _therapist_ tells you about me?”

As soon as he says it, Keith chokes down a sigh and a chilly feeling of regret. He can barely force himself to look at Shiro, now. Whatever’s glimmering behind his eyes makes Keith want to bolt to the break-room and throw up. The worst part is that he _hopes_ the look in Shiro’s eyes is hurt instead of disappointment — as if Keith needed any further confirmation that he is wrong while everyone else is right, and he’s broken, which will leave him alone in the end, whenever everybody he cares about realizes how much better they deserve and runs out.

At the absolute best, he might only be dropping uncomfortable surprises on Shiro’s head. Normally, Keith doesn’t mind Shiro hanging around the shop while he’s working. Shiro has more free time than Keith would’ve guessed came with an MFA program and holing up in the apartment is terrible for him, emotionally. Technically, it’s against protocol for Shiro to spend his free time here instead of pretending to write at a coffee-shop or a library like his classmates and the undergrads he’ll be teaching next semester. But Keith’s bosses and coworkers have taken a liking to Shiro and he helps out without expecting anything in return, so they don’t mind.

Selfishly, Shiro steadies Keith’s nerves when customers are being assholes. He keeps Keith motivated when Kolivan’s being impossible to please, and keeps him focused when Ulaz won’t listen to anyone but Thace even though his latest big idea sounds completely asinine. He keeps Keith from going off the handle too badly when Antok’s acting like he _knows_ Keith intimately just because his husband’s kinda taken Keith on as a florist protege, or whenever Murphy’s Law finds some new way of crashing the party.

Most days, Keith wouldn’t even mind Shiro leaning on the counter, swishing out his ponytail, and refusing to admit that he’s feeling upset about something and desperately wants Keith to give him some extra attention. After so long with each other, Keith recognizes that behavior and understands it. He can usually deal with it fine, even when he’s up to his goddamn _eyes_ in actualizing Lance’s pseudo-surrealist floral love letter, and placing the flowers to Lance’s annoyingly precise specifications.

Most days, however, involve Shiro chilling behind the counter with a notebook or his reading for class, _not_ interrogating Keith about his most recent ex. Never mind the fact that Keith and Regris romantically split up almost seven weeks ago. It’s a fair enough point to Keith, but apparently, Shiro doesn’t think that it matters.

Shiro takes a deep breath of his own before he points out, “If you didn’t want to let Dr. Hall talk to me about you, then you didn’t need to waive confidentiality. You can change your mind and back out of that whenever you want.”

“Yeah, because Coran and Kolivan will _really_ let me get away with that.” Rolling his eyes makes Keith feel petulant, but whatever. Hopefully, Shiro’s looking at the ceiling, so if Keith aims his expression at these roses, maybe Shiro won’t see anything. “It’s bad enough that they ganged up on me about how it wasn’t fair to make you see a therapist without doing anything for myself—”

“They _talked to you_ about your well-being because they were _concerned_ —”

“It was _worse_ enough when they dragged the gang into a godawful bullshit interv—”

“Alright, _again_?” Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose with his prosthetic fingers. He winces, possibly losing control of how much pressure he’s applying again. “They were _concerned_ and doing what they thought they had to do to make you care about yourself—”

“They should’ve listened to _you_. I mean, you told them not to do the stupid intervention. You _told_ them how I’d take it…” Keith should have something more to say about this. Something better. But he should also be able to look at Shiro, given that _he’s_ the reason why Shiro might be deliberately squeezing too hard on his nose, and Keith can’t manage to look up from his arrangement.

He fluffs one of the orchids, so it looks like he’s doing something.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he says. “If they heard I wasn’t letting you keep tabs on me, they’d flip out at me like I’m a five-year-old.”

“It’s not _their_ therapy.” Shiro sighs as if it’s taking a massive amount of effort for him not to snap at Keith right now — which it probably is, considering how much of a headache Keith is, even on his best days. “The fact that they helped talk you into seeing Dr. Hall does not mean they get to have a say in what your treatment—”

Keith cringes at his flowers with an audible _ugh_ , even though none of this is _their_ fault. “I wouldn’t feel good about doing it, okay? You waived _your_ confidentiality with her for me. Doing the same for you is only fair.”

In all likelihood, it’d be fairer if Keith told Dr. Hall half as much as Shiro makes himself open up about in his sessions — but still. Shiro gets to ask Dr. Hall whatever he wants about Keith and vice versa. For now, Keith gets to wrinkle his nose at a clutch of juniberry flowers that refuses to match up with Lance’s sketches. He furrows his brow at one of the laminated sheets that he’s working with and tries to ignore the way that Shiro’s hugging himself in perfect silence.

“Look, for what it’s worth?” he says, when Shiro stays quiet for so long that it’s a miracle Keith doesn’t go puke. “You were right about me and Regris liking each other and clicking well. That’s why we pulled the plug. Broke things off before we started _hating_ each other—”

“But why would it _need_ to have ended that way with him?” Shiro protests, ever hopeful about Keith in ways that make no earthly sense. “Who says that you couldn’t have made it work in the long run and been really happy together?”

“Why do you keep asking me questions like that?” Keith can’t get his juniberry flowers to behave, so he moves on to arranging the little section of orchids and roses. “You _know_ I never have a good answer to them. Since, ‘Because books and movies and TV lied to me, real-world relationships _always_ end in pain if you don’t get out of them quick enough’ is a logical fallacy now or whatever?”

To his credit, Shiro doesn’t take Keith’s bait. He could do what he’s done before and point out that it’s _always_ been a logical fallacy. Instead, he shrugs as if he’s trying _so hard_ to stay casual that it might literally kill him.

“Maybe I keep asking because I know you’re capable of finding an answer, if you try a little harder. Maybe I think finding that answer could help you.” Tucking his long, bleached-white fringe behind his ear, Shiro says, “Also, you’ve started shutting down when anyone else in the gang makes an effort.”

“I talk to Matt and Allura very openly, by my standards.”

“Your standards make dead men look perfectly forthcoming. And I understand _why_ you do things like that, Keith, I get it, but…” Shiro heaves yet another sigh. Unfortunately, this one sounds like he’s about five seconds off from crying.

Even in profile, the wide-eyed, lip-quivering, open look on his face makes Keith amend that estimate. Shiro’s probably more like two seconds away from a crying jag. His glasses slide down his nose as he hangs his head, and Keith’s breath hitches in his throat. He curls his fingers tight around the handle of his pruning shears. Shit, there _must_ be something he can say to make Shiro stop looking like that, to fix things so he _doesn’t_ feel so upset and cry. Doing that exhausts him, and Shiro has class tonight, so God help him, Keith has to figure out how to _keep Shiro from crying_ when he deserves so much better than this—

“I promise, I’m not trying to put you under a microscope,” he says, more gently than Keith deserves. “But you’ve been logging way too many hours here since you and Regris broke up—”

“I’ve been working with Lance on this anniversary piece.” Keith’s hands tremble as he lets up on the shears and adjusts the roses. “We had some pretty intense negotiations about it. Then, I had to fit in extra time in the greenhouses. Ulaz grew these orchids, I couldn’t use them without doing the legwork to replenish—”

“Lance only commissioned you three weeks ago, Keith.” Shiro turns to face Keith properly, slouching at the hips and looking down to meet his eyes. “You started taking all this ridiculous overtime _six_ weeks, almost seven weeks—”

“I _know_ when Regris and I broke up, _Takashi_. Unlike you, I was actually there for the conversation.”

In the face of his given name being sneered like that, Shiro arches an eyebrow and squints at Keith over his glasses. For a moment, he holds that unimpressed expression, the one like he can see right through whoever’s on the receiving end of it and there’s nothing they can hide from him. Keith’s heart stutters — he might have worked his way from disappointing Shiro to legitimately making him angry.

Given how rarely he _shows_ it when someone’s getting to him so badly, Shiro should be ready to throw a punch. Keith’s more than earned it, by now. He’s been stubborn and difficult, short-fused with a hot temper. More than anyone else in Keith’s life, Shiro’s the one who’s gotten stuck putting up with the worst of Keith’s habits, all the signs that he isn’t worth the effort that it takes to show him any kindness.

When Shiro’s prosthetic arm twitches away from his organic one, that _has_ to mean Keith’s got something painful coming to him. A smack, a punch — it doesn’t matter what. Shiro’s finally going to hit him now, after so many years of never doing that to Keith and seeming like maybe he never would. Pursing his lips, Keith nudges the arrangement down the counter, so it won’t block Shiro’s shot. As Shiro reaches out toward him, he knows that he deserves it. Expecting a fist, Keith flinches.

All that Shiro does is caress Keith’s shoulder. He’s so _gentle_ about touching Keith with his prosthetic, so _ginger_ about squeezing him that, if not for how heavy this arm is, Keith might not have noticed anything.

He should _say_ something now, most likely? That’s probably what you’re supposed to do when someone you love, who has every right to be fed up with you and every right to take a swing besides, chooses to show you mercy? But as his eyes go wide, as they sting at him and his lips tremble, Keith can’t find the words. Or any words, for that matter. His throat barely manages to make a wobbly, bemused little noise.

“Keith, you’ve been _miserable_ since you broke up with Regris.” Shiro’s lips quirk almost like he’s trying to give Keith a reassuring smile. “If you’re scared being hurt, or scared of how you feel about him? I understand that. And if you feel like you don’t deserve him? I disagree, like… I’ve told Lance and Allura so many times that he was great, but he still didn’t deserve you. But if you love Regris so much, then dumping him won’t make you feel better. You’ll just watch him with other people and hate yourself for feeling jealous—”

“That _wasn’t_ why I broke up with him!”

Gasping at his own voice, Keith lets his eyes dart all over the shop. He glances in every corner until he’s sure that no one else is in here with them. It’s been a slow morning. No other customers, and aside from Keith, only Kolivan’s come in. He’s back in the greenhouses — right, of course there’s no one else in the shop… No one but Keith and Shiro.

Shiro, who is currently half-agog and blinking at Keith. The question he doesn’t say makes itself obvious: Why did Keith break up with Regris if he wasn’t running from his feelings and the threat of letting himself get attached to another person, the way he’s done with so many other people who’ve tried to get close to him, whether romantically or not.

Keith inhales deeply and looks down at the counter. “It didn’t feel _right_ , okay?” he says. “Being with him when I can’t shake someone else. He deserves better than that.”

“But that’s… Keith, what are you…”

When Keith manages to look at him, Shiro has his entire face scrunched up like a bunny who’s trying to read one of Thace’s chickenscratch invoices. His confusion kindles something warm in Keith’s chest, makes it flare up brighter than fireworks, but — no. No, Keith can’t. Surely, Shiro would’ve _done something_ by now, if he felt anything like Keith does. He would’ve _said_ something. Maybe he doesn’t agree with the obvious truth that he’s too impossibly good for Keith, because Shiro insists on believing in Keith so much that it hurts sometimes. But if he felt even half of what Keith does, then he would have—

“Okay, so who can’t you get out of your system?” Shiro tries to beam at Keith, but his tight, wobbly smile is so obviously fake that Keith wants to scream. All it does is make Shiro look like part of him is dying.

 _Why do you even need to ask that question?_ — the thought burns Keith’s throat but he doesn’t let himself say anything.

Squeezing Keith’s shoulder again, Shiro forces a chuckle. If it weren’t so clearly phony, the affection behind it might manage to make it reassuring. “I mean, as long as it’s not Matt, there’s hope, right? You can’t really do anything about him being aromantic, but… Come on, who is it? Someone lucky, obviously, but that goes without saying? As long as they’re open to it, we can figure something out. If they really don’t want you back, we can try to find…”

Shiro trails off as Keith’s hands ball up in his sweatshirt. However that sentence was meant to end, Keith doesn’t want to know. 

Craning his neck and standing on his toes, leaning over the counter between them, Keith yanks Shiro down into a kiss. Their noses knock against each other but Keith tilts his head, throwing himself into this. His chest feels empty but his pulse bangs in his ears and behind his Adam’s apple. He clings so hard to Shiro’s shirt that, if not for the fabric, his nails would be digging into his palms. This is not good, this is going to go wrong, Shiro might not _kill him_ exactly, but oh shit, oh shit, oh shit — Shiro can’t like this, he won’t, but his mouth is so warm and God, Keith’s thought about this for so long… Shiro’s prosthetic hand lets go of Keith’s shoulder, and of course, he’s going to shove Keith away soon, there’s no other way this ends, but—

Keith whines as Shiro’s prosthetic cups his cheek, as Shiro wraps his organic arm around Keith’s waist. As Shiro deepens the kiss, Keith can’t tell where his heartbeat’s gone. It’s not until he needs to breathe that he lets any space between his mouth and Shiro’s. While Keith pants, Shiro doesn’t give up on holding him.

“Oh, my God… I can’t even…” Shiro huffs, nudging his forehead into Keith’s. He lets out a breathy, half-strangled laugh. “Lance and Allura are never gonna let me live this down… I kept telling them you didn’t? That you’d never—”

“Shiro, I love you _so much_ ,” Keith says, backing up just enough to let Shiro get a full view of his face. “But Lance and Allura are not invited to this kiss, okay?”

“Duly noted.” With a fond, open smile, Shiro presses his lips into Keith’s like he never wants to let this go.

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on tumblr [over here](http://amorremanet.tumblr.com/post/168626762977/for-the-three-sentence-fics-sheith-flower-shop).


End file.
